Midnight's Atonement
by CrimsonRegret478
Summary: "Repent for your sins, Lovino. Spare yourself this humiliation and your son might live. You'd better hurry. You only have 24 hours." Lovino wasn't sure how much more he could take. And that is when he realized... maybe death isn't so bad. Sequel to MD.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the third and final installment of the Midnight Series. We are almost at the end of our long journey here.**

**Okay, so, I said I'd redo it and I am. This one will move at a much slower pace than the previous one so I hope it's better. I stayed up late every night of the week just to finish this. Please let me know what you think of it so far. Thank Hollywood Undead and all of the piano songs on my playlist from YouTube for inspiring me to write this chapter. It was hectic.**

**Have ideas for this story or Midnight's Promise? Shoot me a PM or leave them in a review.**

**Happy reading~**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Warnings: Language, violence, blah blah blah**

* * *

**Chapter One**

_Run._

_Don't stop._

_You can't stop._

_Don't look back!_

_Keep going!_

Antonio struggled to keep his pace as his muscles cried for mercy. His lungs burned with lack of oxygen. His head swam with fear. He couldn't stop. That monster would get him if he did. That monster with terrible blue eyes… it was dead on his heels, breathing down his neck, growling menacingly.

_Move, Antonio! Go!_

His footsteps echoed on the metal bridge, barely being heard over the thundering waters below him. His hands clutched at his knees as he bent over in exhaustion, desperate to catch his breath that escaped as large puffs of smoke from the cold and clouded his vision slightly. His legs sighed in relief at the small amount of rest they were receiving and his lungs swelled with the oxygen they required.

He had to find his dad. Antonio had to find some way to get home! The full moon watched the boy pokerfaced and with her frigid gaze, she felt just enough sympathy to light the path laid out before him. The clouds outlined in her glow threatened to mask such a blank expression, drifting slowly towards her. Behind him, great footfalls boomed, knocking over trees and shaking the earth. There was a deafening roar and the leaves shivered on their perches from its might.

There they were.

Eyes.

Blue eyes.

Disdainful, glacial blue eyes that stared him down, smiting him with their gaze.

A deep growl rumbled within its chest, rocking Antonio to the very core.

_Oh no… _Antonio thought in absolute dread.

The beast reached out for him, claws at the ready, and grabbed him. It held on tightly, choking him, draining him of life and held him over the edge of the bridge. Antonio desperately tried to call out for his father but his wails were drowned out by the monster's wicked laughter and the raging river surging below him. Its blue eyes burned into his and the smirk sent chills down his spine.

"Time to die," it grinned and released.

The water came rushing at him then, promising death within its icy depths.

* * *

A loud cry shook Lovino from his restless slumber and the Italian tumbled out of bed, scanning the darkness for any sort of danger. He scrambled to his feet and raced down the hall to his son's room, tearing open the door upon arriving. He flicked on the light to the sight of Antonio clutching at his head, screaming in absolute terror. Lovino sat at the edge of the bed, pulling the boy close. He called Antonio's name repeatedly but the five-year-old didn't seem to hear him.

"Antonio," Lovino did his best to keep his voice calm and collected, struggling to reach his terrified son. He placed his hands on both sides of the boy's face, "Toni, look at me. It's all right."

Emerald eyes shot open, darting around the room, searching for the monster terrorizing him from his dreams. Making contact with eyes of a darker shade than his, pearls of fear pooled and trailed down flushed cheeks, the owner of such distress sobbing almost uncontrollably.

"D-Daddy!" Antonio fell into his father's arms and continued to weep, choking on the taste of icy water in his mouth. "Daddy…"

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here," Lovino whispered softly, stroking Antonio's burning head which was damp with sweat. "I'm here…"

Antonio fisted Lovino's shirt in his hands, breaking ranks in the fabric. The Italian held his son in his lap, rocking the child back and forth slowly, reassuring Antonio that everything was fine and that he was safe. This security was a mere façade however, and Lovino knew that. Once Antonio fell asleep again, the nightmares would attack him again, devouring every last bit of the boy's sanity and filling him with fear.

Just when Antonio was getting back on his feet and acting somewhat stable, this happens. The boy was hardly ever given a moment's peace.

_He was doing so well… _Lovino kissed Antonio's head tenderly.

There was not a single day—no, a single _minute_—that went by when Lovino saw the intense dread in Antonio's usually cheerful eyes that he wished he had done away with Marcello. That man was still having an everlasting effect on their lives despite being thousands of miles away in jail. It would've spared them the paranoia if not the trauma.

Why couldn't he pull the trigger?

Why!

_Maybe I really am my father's son; _Lovino's thoughts were soon interrupted by Antonio's feeble voice.

"…he was chasing me, Papa… he—he got me! And—and the river was—was so c-cold…!"

"Antonio, look at me," Lovino said.

Emerald met with forest green, tears still spilling over the former's banks. The boy sniffled once and Lovino wiped away the streams.

"You don't have to worry about a thing, okay? He's in jail thousands of miles away from here. He can't hurt you anymore. You don't need to be afraid. I know it's hard."

Antonio visibly cringed at hearing the man's name. There was truth in the statement, though. Marcello was in jail far away from them. The chances of his escaping were slim to none but Antonio couldn't help but feel nauseous at the mere thought of Marcello wandering the streets, searching for them, wanting them six feet under and remembered only by tombstones. The reassurance in his father's voice was comforting though. As long as his dad was here, he'd be safe. He believed that. He had to believe that.

"You believe me, don't you?" Lovino's tone was much calmer now.

"Yes," Antonio nodded slowly. "I believe you, Papa."

It was then that Lovino offered a comforting smile and it was returned by Antonio's uneasy one. To not see a radiant grin on his son's face was such an unthinkable image that Lovino almost didn't want to believe it when it was right before his eyes. The Italian wiped away a stray tear that started to spill over Antonio's rosy cheek with his thumb and mussed the child's head. There was a long pause between the two and this gave Antonio time to settle down but he still clung to his father, listening to the rhythmic beat of the man's heart. It was melodic almost, the music of a living and breathing human being. His dad was here. He was alive. There was nothing to be afraid of. He was safe.

Antonio then squirmed a bit and Lovino questioned what was wrong.

"I, uh, kind of… um…" the boy mumbled incoherently.

Catching sight of the wet spot on the sheets, nothing else needed to be said as Lovino led Antonio to the bathroom and helped him get cleaned up and in a new set of pajamas. The entire time his father was helping him, Antonio's cheeks were painted a bright crimson. How embarrassing was this! Here he was five years old going on six and still wetting the bed like a toddler.

Nonetheless, the boy voiced his thoughts, "Papa, can… can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Of course you can, Toni," Lovino gently held Antonio's smaller one in his and guided the child to said bedroom, slipping underneath the covers with Antonio at his side.

Once the five-year-old was nestled in the blankets, he snuggled up to his father's chest and fisted Lovino's shirt in the palm of his tiny hand. He met the Italian's gaze and Lovino reassured such worried orbs with his own forest eyes, smiling gently and placing his hand atop the boy's head. Antonio attempted his own smile and placed his head against Lovino's chest, counting each beat of his father's strong heart.

_Ba-dump…_

One.

_Ba-dump…_

Two.

_Ba-dump…_

Three…

Antonio drifted off to sleep almost immediately, reveling in the comfort and security of being in his father's embrace. Nothing could touch him here. He was safe. There was no danger. There was no monster. Here, on this night, all of his fears meant nothing. He was in peace.

The only sound for the longest time was Antonio's soft breathing and nothing moved save for the shallow rise and fall of the child's chest. Lovino remained both still and silent, just watching the boy sleep. How innocent his son seemed. Oh how he wished for Antonio to remain as such. If he had never fallen for a person who shall not be named, none of this would be happening.

Did Lovino shoulder a lot of regret? Of course he did. It weighed him down every day, making it difficult to get up in the morning and fall asleep at night. He couldn't even look into Antonio's eyes now with everything that had happened…

"_You must remember, fratello, that this isn't your fault. How could you have ever expected something like this?" Feliciano tried reasoning with his older brother who was so close to falling apart completely._

"_How is this _not _my fault, Feliciano? Please enlighten me! _I'm _the one who brought that bastard into Antonio's life! _I'm _the one who trusted him! _I _put Antonio through this!" Lovino struggled to control the volume of his voice in his upset. "I know he hates me! I hate myself for this!"_

_The Italian paced just as frantically as his thoughts were buzzing around in his head and Feliciano could merely watch, unsure of what exactly would calm his frantic brother. Lovino finally stopped by the window, staring at the rain streaming down the glass. There was an uneasy silence between two, broken only by the pelting rain and roaring thunder. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating Lovino's tired and tear-rimmed eyes._

"_He wakes up every night screaming," Lovino's voice shuddered horribly and he took a deep breath to calm himself. "And there is nothing that I can do besides tell him it's going to be okay even when we know it's not."_

"_Fratello…"_

"_I was supposed to protect him, Feliciano. And all I've done is hurt him."_

"_Parents make mistakes all the time, fratello, but this is something that was out of your control—"_

"_No! It was well within my fucking control! You know damn well it was! I allowed him into our lives and I should've trusted my first instinct and told him to leave!" Lovino shook his head furiously._

"_Fratello, you must stop blaming yourself," Feliciano placed his hands firmly on his brother's shoulders. "If you had known what that man was really like, you would've stopped it from the very beginning. I know you would've."_

"_I didn't want to hurt him. After everything he had gone through with his mom… I wanted to protect him from that. I wanted him to be happy. Maybe I really am our father, after all. I guess what they say is true: the apple never falls far from the tree."_

"_Stop it!" Feliciano spat, his grip tightening. His honey eyes wavered with despair at hearing such a claim. "You are nothing like that man, do you understand me? Nothing! I don't ever want to hear those words come out of your mouth again! You have given Antonio what our family and his family failed to give him: love. You have loved him both in this life and his past."_

_Forest just stared at honey in utter sorrow and disbelief._

"_You are a good father, Lovino. Antonio doesn't hate you, nor does he love you any less. You _saved _him, fratello. That's more than I or Ludwig could ever say as well as some fathers. You're both just going through the aftermath and it's stressful for the both of you. This will all pass in due time," Feliciano offered one of his contagious smiles._

_Lovino feigned his own and it soon disappeared the moment Antonio cried out in terror from his bedroom, making Lovino attempt another long, futile night of trying to dispel nightmares._

Lovino kissed Antonio's head and the boy didn't even stir, already deep in slumber.

"I'm so sorry, Antonio," Lovino's fingers ghosted over where a dark bruise once stained Antonio's eye. "I'm so sorry he did this to you."

The Italian sought forgiveness from his former lover for he wasn't sure how much more regret he could soak into his already neglected heart weighed down with a river of guilt.

"Can you forgive me a second time?" he muttered. "I never wanted to hurt you again. You've been through so much already and I haven't been helping in the least."

Lovino had apologized to Antonio before but the regret continued to eat away at him, killing him softly. Sighing in the darkness, Lovino held his son gently in his arms, wishing the boy pleasant dreams as he fell into his own dark ones.

* * *

Electric blue eyes that were given a spark by the winter moon's rays scanned blades of grass at their owner's fingertips. A tender hand brushed back loose strands of strawberry-blonde hair that curled gently at the ends, fitting behind her ear perfectly. She undid the bright blue ribbon, allowing her hair to flow freely in the cool breeze caressing the land like an unforeseen kiss.

It was such a quiet night out. The neighborhood was at peace and even the crickets had retired from their evening song. The millions of diamonds in the velvet sky winked down at her, accompanied by the moon which watched over her like a silent guardian. She didn't even shiver as another gust of wind came billowing through. She merely sat there, nearly still as a statue save for her fingers plucking the blades of grass.

"Sienna!" Feliciano called from the patio, running over to his daughter. "Sienna, what're you doing out here? It's the middle of the night! You'll catch cold if you stay out here!"

"Oh," the girl said as if she hadn't noticed. "Sorry, Mama. I didn't mean to worry you. I just couldn't sleep."

"That's all right," Feliciano sighed lightly. "Let's go inside before you get sick. You must be freezing!"

The Italian helped his daughter to her feet and led her inside, immediately wrapping her in a thick blanket and giving her some warm milk. The duo sat themselves on the couch and Feliciano watched the girl take a sip of her drink before questioning.

"Why can't you sleep, Sienna? Is something bothering you?"

Sienna hid her face behind her curtain of hair, using it as a wall to evade the questions asked. The seven-year-old was quiet as she stared at the milk rippling in her cup and traced the brim of the mug with her finger.

"Sienna?" Feliciano pressed.

"I-It's nothing, Mama…" she muttered. "I'm okay."

"Sienna Marie," there was no hint of an upcoming scolding that Sienna could detect. Only apprehension and genuine worry were present. "Please tell me, sweetheart. I can't help if you don't tell me."

The girl thought about it for a moment. Would her mother really understand? He was so bubbly and cheerful all the time, seeming to not have a care in the world. Being a quiet and reserved girl for most of her life, she had always been very hesitant to voice her thoughts. She was still a blooming rose that had yet to reveal its inner beauty or a baby bird just learning how to spread her wings.

Feliciano waited patiently for his daughter, knowing that she needed time to collect her thoughts. She was so much like Ludwig sometimes it was almost laughable. The way her eyes lit up when something peaked her interest or the way their brow furrowed when in deep thought.

"Umm, well… I was just wondering if we could go see Uncle Lovi and Antonio tomorrow," she then quickly rebounded with something else. "I-I mean, it's only if you want to. We don't have to. I just…"

"Miss them?" Feliciano completed her thought.

Sienna nodded, "I miss them a lot."

The Italian man sighed lightly, wondering how to go about this. He couldn't possibly beat around the bush. Sienna could read him like an open book just as her father could.

"Sienna, sweetheart, there's something that you need to understand even if I don't fully understand it myself," Feliciano began uncertainly and knew he had the girl's attention from the focused ocean eyes watching him. "Antonio and Lovino are going through a very hard time right now and they may not want visitors until everything has calmed down over there."

"But why? We're family, aren't we?"

"Yes and as their family we must respect their wishes. If they need some space, we have to give it to them and know that they're going to be okay," Feliciano placed his hand atop the girl's mop of bright hair when she leaned against his shoulder. "They just need time, sweetie, that's all."

Sienna muttered, "Why? What's happening, Mommy?"

Now Feliciano had been thrown for another loop. How the hell was he supposed to explain this to her? He wished Ludwig was home. He was good at this kind of thing.

"Remember the time that we went over to Uncle Lovi's house and Antonio wouldn't even come near us?"

"Uh-huh."

"And that he started screaming when he fell asleep?"

Sienna nodded again.

"Well, that's because Antonio doesn't really trust us right now," Feliciano said.

"Why not?"

"Because someone hurt him very badly so his dad is the only one he trusts right now."

"But—but why wouldn't he trust us? He knows us, Mama," Sienna's eyes dimmed with confusion.

"That's true, he does know us. But just because you _know_ someone doesn't mean you have to _trust_ them. Trust takes years to build, Sienna. You didn't start trusting your uncle Lovi until you were about three years old," Feliciano ended that with an amused smile.

"Really?"

"Yup!" Feliciano nodded. "You had to make sure he wasn't going to hurt you. That's all Antonio is doing right now. He wants to make sure that we—or no one else—is going to hurt him again."

The girl nodded in understanding and placed her mug on the coffee table, no longer in the mood for it. Her eyes swam in the tears threatening to spill, emphasizing her ocean orbs. Feliciano tenderly wiped them away before even a single one could fall and stroked his daughter's cheek.

"Everything will be okay, Sienna. You'll see."

She hugged him tightly, murmuring, "When's Daddy coming home?"

"He'll be home by the end of the week. He went to visit Grandpa Garren, remember? He's sick."

"Why couldn't… we… we go with him?" Sienna was on the journey to sleep.

"Because, silly, you have school. Not to mention his mother doesn't exactly like me," Feliciano mumbled the last part, thankful that Sienna hadn't heard him.

The seven-year-old had already drifted off into her dreams, lost to this reality and escaped to one that was perfect in her eyes. Feliciano lifted the girl in his arms and carried her to bed, kissing her forehead and placing her stuffed teddy bear beside her.

"Goodnight, Sienna. Sweet dreams," Feliciano exited the room, mindful to leave the closet light on.

He dared that man to try and come after them again. This time, there would be no mercy. No. This time, they would be ready for anything. Since the art of the possible tended to paint a different portrait than what they imagined, they would need their own masterpiece.

* * *

_That's right._

_Keep running._

_Run away!_

_Run!_

_Run!_

_You'll never get away._

_You'll never be fast enough._

_You'll never be strong enough._

_Your daddy can't protect you forever._

_I still have a coffin with your name on it…_

_Antonio Vargas._


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh pissbuckets, how long has it been since I updated this story? A good while? Sorry about that. Final exams are coming up and I'm trying to keep up with all the classes I'm taking. My teachers SUCK. UGH. Anyway, I'm not going to burden you with my life's dilemma. I'm just going to get straight to the point: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. /dodges bricks.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Happy reading~**

**WARNINGS: Language, death, blood, etc.**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

The long and narrowed corridor washed away by a dull grey light was stretched out before the two men, their footfalls reverberating off the cinderblock walls. The aged lamps—being the only source of light down there—flickered over them, giving off an eerie orange glow. Detective Davide Moretti kept in stride with the older but taller man at his flank.

"How's he doing?" questioned the former.

"Fine… I suppose. He's a strange one, though. He's the first inmate I've ever met that actually prefers solitary confinement," the warden replied.

Davide scoffed, "Considering that these guys you've got cooped up in here aren't exactly friendly, I don't blame him for wanting to be alone. I heard the others don't take kindly to those who hurt children."

"Well, you're not wrong," the elder said, stopping in front of cell 3405.

"When will we be expecting him?"

"Not for another hour or so. You've got plenty of time."

Davide gave a simple nod of acknowledgement, entering the prison cell after the warden opened the heavy metal door. He was consumed by the overwhelming darkness that enveloped the small room and the young investigator took a moment of silence, breathing in the musty and decaying stench in the air. The warden watched him with tentative curiosity, almost wanting to question but held his tongue.

"Warden," Davide began, "how close of an eye do you keep on your inmates? Do you observe their behavior?"

"We keep a very close eye on them—around the clock. Why do you ask?"

"Obviously not close enough. Darkness is not the ideal state to keep this one in," the detective flipped on the switch.

While the warden's eyes widened in surprise, Davide merely stood there, unfazed by his revealed surroundings. The walls were covered in it—blood. Words were heedlessly carved into the cinderblock (or were they scratched?) and were also written in the dried red liquid incessantly, overlapping each other.

_GET OUT._

_GO AWAY._

_LEAVE ME ALONE._

Davide examined the room further, singling out more words and phrases, and ghosted his fingers along the words, feeling the grooves etched into the stone.

_CAN'T RUN._

_HELP ME._

_FOLLOWS._

_ALWAYS WATCHES._

On the floor near the wall were dark brown chips that were rectangular in shape but rounded off at the top. They were practically coated in the brown unknown substance. Davide knelt down picked up a few of the chips and placed them in his palm, inspecting them and immediately concluding what it was.

"What is it?" the man in the doorway asked.

Davide turned them over in his hand precariously, revealing the other side's smooth surface.

"Fingernails."

"F-Fingernails?" the warden had to ineffectively swallow his surprise.

"He scratched these words into the wall."

The warden could only stand there mutely, transfixed with horror, as Davide continued his search. What he was looking for he wasn't certain of but anything would be suffice at the moment. He needed to keep tabs on this guy as the last person assigned to it wasn't very good at doing so. He knew he shouldn't have swept this case from his desk and handed it off for another rookie to handle.

What the hell was he thinking?

Oh yeah. He almost forgot. That was his superior's thinking.

"The case is closed, he said. Don't worry about a thing, he said. He's locked away in jail and away from them. He's no longer a threat, Davide," the detective muttered darkly under his breath, mocking his boss's exact words. "They're safe and sound."

"Are you sure this guy belongs here and not a mental institution?" the warden fought to keep his voice steady. He was a figure of authority, after all.

"He wasn't always this messed up," Davide commented, tearing off the sheets and running his hands along the tattered and soiled mattress. "The murder of his sister hit him harder than most thought. She was his only living relative. But I'm sure you read all of this in the paperwork, right?"

The warden caught the sarcasm bleeding from the other man's tone and raised an eyebrow at the implied accusation, "What're you trying to say, Mr. Moretti?"

"You know exactly what I'm saying," Davide spat. "This man needs to be anywhere but solitary confinement unless he has murdered one of your other inmates but as far as I'm concerned, this has not happened. I don't care what his _preferences _are. Here, alone, in the dark, he has time to think and plot against the very people we're trying to protect and right now, I see no guards to watch him or any of the others down here as carefully you claim they do."

The elder of the two didn't so much as bat an eye.

"Now what I suggest you do is move his ass back to where more than one person can watch him. This, right now, is a walk in the park to someone of his intellect. He may act incompetent but he'll bring this entire place to its knees if you let him," Davide snarled and continued his search.

Running his hand against the mattress, his fingers caught a small rift in the mattress. He tore it back, and within the tangled, worn springs, a book lay amongst them—a needle in a haystack if one was not looking carefully enough. Maneuvering his hand through, he grabbed the object and pulled it out, studying it. The leather cover was worn, each tear whispering a story of how it came to be. Davide flipped through the pages that were yellowing with age, skimming the dates at the top of the pages.

_January 12__th__, 2009—_that's where it all started.

Davide was careful about going through the flimsy pages too hastily in fear of tearing them. Not bothering to read past entries, he reached the latest entry and his breath hitched in his throat.

_CATCH THEM._

_KILL THEM._

_CATCH._

_KILL._

All of it written in both blood in ink over and over again, tearing through to the other side and muddled by ink splotches. It covered the next few pages profusely. Davide snapped it shut and tucked it underneath his arm. He shot to his feet, shoving past the warden.

The detective pulled out his cellphone upon exiting the prison, and after dialing a number, he pressed it to his ear, "I want eyes on the Vargas family constantly and also on his brother. I don't like the feeling about this prison holding Marcello. They're much too lenient for my liking. I want him transferred… No, I don't care how long it takes or what you have going on already. This takes precedence. I want it done. _Now."_

There was no way in hell Davide was going to let this situation escalate.

He had to stop it before the first pawn was moved on the chessboard.

* * *

He rubbed the few hours of sleep from his eyes with his free hand and shielded those precious forest gems from the morning's warmth and rays dappling through the curtains. He was completely still for a moment, debating on whether he should get out of bed and make something to eat or just lay there and bask in the new day. The birds sang and danced on their perches just outside the window, filling the air with sweet, gentle music. The cerise petals of the blooming cherry cheers tangoed with the wind as it whisked them away on a journey beyond. The birds chirped on and he sighed lightly. He tilted his head to look at the figure sleeping beside him, curled into his chest with tiny hands fisted in his nightshirt.

Lovino played with the silk brunette strands protruding from the rest of the baby fine curls. The boy next to him of only five years didn't so much as budge. He breathed easily and evenly as if the weight of the world rested on anyone else's shoulders but his own in the most peaceful, innocent and vulnerable state a human could ever be in. The Italian's expression melted from its weary canvas to one where hope shone as a tiny beacon once more. Maybe things were finally looking up. Last night broke the six month record. Half a year—the longest time the nightmares had let Antonio be—went straight down the tubes.

_Back to square one, _the young father thought.

How long would it be this time?

Months?

Weeks?

Days?

…seconds?

A piercing cry of terror could shatter this beautiful morning in an instant and Lovino prayed for the contrary. Antonio needed his rest, if the dark splotches staining his eyes were any indication. Lovino placed an angel's kiss on Antonio's head. The child shifted and nuzzled into the warm body he was up against, finding comfort and serenity, mumbling something incoherent.

Lovino waited a moment to make certain that Antonio would be fine before he slid out of bed. He really ought to get breakfast started. The Italian moved cautiously and gently, easily loosening his son's grip from his shirt. Antonio turned over, now facing the wall, again muttering in his sleep.

"Daddy…"

Lovino hesitated to be certain Antonio wouldn't wake up. When the child settled, Lovino exited the room with stealth and precision, shutting the door softly. He headed down the kitchen and quickly fixed himself a cup of coffee to get him going. As it was brewing, Lovino quickly silenced the ringing phone before the house caught its echo.

"Hello?" he murmured.

"_Ciao, fratello~! How are you this morning?"_

"Feliciano, it's a little early to be this bubbly, don't you think?" Lovino cleared the rasp in his voice.

"_You never were a morning person, fratello," _Feliciano giggled lightheartedly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You've told me that a million times and not a damn thing has changed. What do you want?" there was no malice in Lovino's words.

"_Well, I was wondering if you and Antonio would be up for some company today. Sienna has been begging to see you two. She misses you both terribly—as do I."_

"Antonio does, too. He talks about you guys from time to time. He wonders why he doesn't see you anymore but when I suggest that you come over he freaks out a little. I don't blame him, though. He really hasn't been doing well with anybody around—even with me."

"_You don't think it'd be a good idea for us to go to the park together, huh?"_

Lovino sighed heavily, "To see you two—yes, definitely. But to go to the park? I'm not entirely sure. With all those people around, it could be disastrous to him, especially with his behavior being as unpredictable as it is."

"_That's true… how has he been doing, by the way?"_

"Better—progress has been made. But he had another nightmare last night. It scared him pretty badly. He's sleeping right now and I'll ask him when he wakes up and see if he wants to go," Lovino rebounded, hearing the sadness in his sibling's voice.

"_Okay! We'll be patiently waiting for your phone call!" _the younger immediately hung up.

Lovino set the phone down, "He's a piece of work."

The Italian glanced up the stairs, wondering how Antonio was doing. He thought about it for a moment and ultimately decided that they both needed a break. While some sleep needed to be caught, Antonio needed it far more than Lovino ever would. He poured himself a cup of steaming coffee and plopped down at the kitchen table, burying his hands in his unkempt hair.

He hoped and prayed Antonio would fare well today. The last time they went out to a public place, Antonio had an anxiety attack which was common even when they were at home and it was just the two of them. They really hadn't done much after that. Antonio was in no mood to go out. They had yet to do any group activities that didn't involve just the two of them or where there tons of people. Groups made the child extremely nervous. Lovino took a long, drawn out sip from his mug. He had to be positive. That was the only way.

Mug in hand, Lovino travelled to the window to watch the sun rise and the sleepy town of Cuore wake up and embrace the day. He was quiet, letting his thoughts do all the talking. It seemed just like yesterday when Lovino found the sleeping child in the tomato garden five years ago, only two months old at the time in a wicker basket, covered with a blanket and whimpering to be held and yearning to be loved.

Accepting the infant into his life made the sun shine brighter in his dim world. The one he lost was found.

But… how did it all happen? _Why _did it happen?

What drove Lovino to say those dreadful words that ended their relationship and ultimately Antonio's life?

. . .

_Lovino hadn't received a good night's rest in well over a month. He was quiet about what plagued him, however; he convinced himself that it was his problem and no one else's. Despite Antonio's genuine concern for his lover's well-being, the Italian didn't so much as utter a word._

_Why now?_

_Why now of all times after all these years of putting them to rest?_

_Why were they unearthing themselves, rising up from their grave sodden with filth? Such terrible, terrible visions of that night—the feeling of the fire burning him alive and his body splitting in two… again… and again… and again… it never ended!_

_Why wouldn't they go away? Why couldn't they just leave him alone!_

_It was 12:47 AM on March 27__th__—a night Lovino would rather tear away from his memories. The Italian sat on the couch wrapped in a blanket to fight the chills quaking down his body and meeting with the "fire" searing up his back. Dark circles stained underneath his eyes and a weary expression was painted on his face. He shuddered visibly and nestled further into the wool fabric, bringing it up to his face to hide the oncoming tears of humility and overall terror. It was normal around this time of year. But he had yet to get used to it. Settling into a false sense of comfort proved to be a double-edged sword. He struggled to stifle his sobs lest he wake Antonio._

_It was morbidly silent that evening. Not even the crickets or the wind raking at the land dared to shatter it. The weight of being fired from his job, the possibility that Antonio may be laid off as well, bills, the nightmares, and just life in general slammed into Lovino all at that single moment in time. The Italian's heart sank into his stomach where it dropped further._

_What was he going to do?_

_What were _they _going to do?_

_Their relationship was falling apart at the seams. Every little thing was an argument that often led to something that lurked beneath the surface of the tension. Could nothing go right for him? _

If there is a God, _the Italian thought, _He hates me.

_He thought he had it right! He thought he had his life all figured out with a future chiseled perfectly into stone. The miniscule cracks meant nothing to the true masterpiece in the making._

"_Lovi?" a new voice that accompanied soft footsteps were soon heard over the Lovino's distress. "Are you all right?"_

"_I'm fine. I want to be alone," Lovino grumbled and ducked his head away, sniffling quietly._

"_Why are you crying, Lovi?" Antonio approached slowly, concern shining in his emerald eyes._

"_Leave me the fuck alone and go back to bed!" the other ordered, his voice breaking like the surface of a lake._

"_But Lovi…"_

"_It's Lovino! How many times do I have to tell your ass that?!"_

_Antonio sighed, "Querido, you can talk to me. Remember that we agreed to always talk to each other about what's bothering us?"_

"_Nothing is bothering me, Antonio. Leave me alone."_

"_This is what I'm talking about, Lovi. You can't keep shutting me out like this. I love and care about you and I hate to see you in pain so I'm going to keep asking you about it," Antonio spoke gently and with assurance. Sure, his little tomato could be frustrating with his stubborn attitude but it was what made Lovino who he was. Antonio had to remember that. That's what he loved about Lovino. Once he made up his mind, there was no question if that decision was final. None at all. But there were some drawbacks to having such a willful partner._

_ Lovino was silent._

"_Querido?"_

"_Stop."_

"_Lovi, I want to help—believe me, I do. I love you and I want to fix this. But I can't want it for you. I can't sit here and pretend like nothing's wrong—"_

"_Then maybe you should just leave!" Lovino shouted with red-rimmed eyes._

_And the moment he uttered those words was the moment he wanted to take them back. As Antonio left the house for the final time that night, the moon had long since turned her back, leaving the road laid before Antonio dark and forbidding. The stars were unnervingly bright that night, begging the Spaniard to turn back._

_Lovino fell to his knees._

_Does this darkness have a name?_

_This cruelty, this hatred…_

_How did it find them? Did it steal into their lives or did they seek it out and embrace it? When did they lose their way? Consumed by the shadows—swallowed whole by the darkness…_

_Does this darkness have a name?_

. . .

Lovino's eyes dimmed even in the morning's glow.

That's right.

_He_ sent Antonio away.

_He _sent Antonio to his death—crushed between 4,000 pounds of mutilated steel. It was painless, they said. He felt nothing… they said. It was quick and easy—like breaking a toothpick. But there _was_ pain. There was _suffering._ He had maimed Antonio's wonderful heart long before it ceased to beat.

_It's my name._

* * *

He easily flipped through the pages, having spent the last hour carefully reading each entry with painstaking russet eyes. Each word, each little detail was jotted down in his mind for future reference. He had to know this man inside and out—every quirk, every thought was crucial to the case. He noticed the shifts in Marcello's penmanship from the times he had time to think about his writing and the times he was rushed. Honestly, if the detective didn't know any better and merely spared a glance, he'd say most of the words looked like chicken scratch—if he didn't know any better.

Davide reached the final entry which was from last week. And this, much to his surprise, was nothing like the neat, ornate curves that were recognized as Marcello's handwriting. This was scribbled, looking much like the handwriting of a first grader.

_December 17__th__—_

_Voices… voices echoing in my head… I can't get them to stop! They won't leave me alone! No matter what I do, they won't go away! They're always watching me—I can feel they're eyes on me. I can't run away from them. They'll catch me and torment me further. At night, I can't sleep. And without sleep, I cannot think. The only thoughts I have are ones of blood and death and I am certain that the Voices are the ones giving me these nightmares. They are relentless._

"_Catch and kill, catch and kill" is what they say to me. I needn't ask who because in my heart I know. I know who they're talking about. The two people who have caused me the utmost grief in my life. The people who caused the death of my beloved little sister. The people who murdered my sanity._

_I will make them suffer._

_I will make them pay._

_There is no better way than to listen to your child's dying screams._

_Catch them._

_Kill them._

_Hell in a hand basket._


End file.
